Jason Silver

Friday, August 14th, 2026

My Own Heart of Flesh

Like everyone else, I have suffered some big struggles. There have been nights I cried myself to sleep, incredulous that I am yet again in a place I never wanted to be.

After one such circumstance back in 2007, I accepted an SSRI anti-depression prescription to help cope with the loss. I hoped that the medication would start me on the process of reevaluating my life and reexamining whatever it was about me that kept me running in circles, repeating the same mistakes, hurting people in the same way, and ending up at that familiar place of pain.

It really helped. I became less emotionally volatile, negative, and consumed by my own thoughts; I was more passive. I had a new objectivity that helped me understand my disordered ways of thinking.

I think I became a better husband, too and I suspect my children benefited from a more constant, supportive father.

I was on this medication for probably 15 years. Every day I popped a pill, and went about my life with less inner turmoil.

But I think there was also less love in me. I think there was less compassion, less life, less vibrancy, less creativity. I might go as far as to say I was numb.

I had disconnected my head from my heart.

About three years ago I stopped my medication, slowly, carefully. I weaned myself off properly. I started getting angry again. My wife didn't recognize the way I was behaving. I had opinions, and I argued, I made her cry. Too many times.

I also started crying again. I cried when I was worshipping God. I cried because I saw truth and meaning all around me: a video clip, a blog post, an intimate confession. I wept when others wept, I felt their pain, I lived it with them.

It took a while, but eventually the extremes balanced out. I figured out how to curtail my anger. I relearned how to listen, when to speak, and when to remain silent. I hurt my wife less.

And the beauty about all of this for me is that it felt like I was becoming myself again.

Back in the days of medication, I was a big advocate for serotonin re-uptake inhibitors. It helped me get past a lot of pain. But now, I don't know what to think. I like being able to cry when I see the power of God. I still don't know exactly what the medication was doing. I know it helped me survive a painful season, and I'm grateful for that. But looking back, I also believe it dulled parts of me that I didn't realize I was losing.

The strange thing about this is that in some ways, I took the medication in order to give myself a heart of stone. If that wasn't my purpose, it became my reality. I thought I was fixing a "chemical imbalance," but I was just turning down the volume of my life. I was squelching not just my feelings, but also my ability to laugh and love from my inmost soul.

Praise the Lord, I can now see that God has taken those dry, dead parts of me and brought them back to life. I can see His purpose working in me to make me into his child, more like Him, and more like He made me to be.

Ezekiel speaks of God removing the heart of stone and giving a heart of flesh. Whether or not that's exactly how someone else would describe my story, that's the language that best describes mine. I thank God that He has been softening my heart, teaching me to love Him and others more deeply, and making me the person He created me to be.

That's all I want. I want to please Him, to serve Him, to know Him.

Amen

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